


Negotiate

by peoriapeoria



Series: Worlds Collide [3]
Category: due South
Genre: F/M, M/M, Ms Fraser, Victoria - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between Antipodes and We Are Gathered. Sometimes the journey defines the destination.  Benton Fraser has a knack for the path less traveled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiate

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to akamine_chan for betaing this, and all the other people I've shook down for words. Naturally, remaining errors are my own. Thanks also to nora_charles.

He'd kissed Tracy in the Bullpen. Tracy didn't believe for one moment it was an impulsive act. _Benton Fraser had considered his reaction to my revelation, and decided to respond by kissing me in the Bullpen. In his uniform, in his red serge, in front of the 27th's collected cops._

On St. Valentine's Day. Which was why Tracy was picking up Chinese food; there was no way that any of their usual places wouldn't be packed. Benton had made his grand gesture, declared _acceptance._ The particulars would have to be parsed. After silence the willingness to talk was invigorating.

* * *

Tracy opened the door, having just arrived home with the take out. _Still in uniform._ Of course he was, he would have come directly from the Consulate, stepped from parade attention into Ray's car. "Come in." Tracy went over to the kitchenette table and pulled out one chair before sitting opposite.

Fraser set his Stetson upon the trunk on his way to the table, sat and pulled in closer. The rustling of the plastic bags were like the noise of snow, silence that was, not loud, but neither the absence of sound. He picked up the unfolded box of three layer pork and served himself, Tracy doing likewise with the Kung Pao prawns. They each made their choices, not speaking, and Fraser picked up his chopsticks. He started eating.

Dinner ebbed and bobbed. Slowly, naturally, small bits of conversation started, swirled and dissipated. Little things, ephemeral minutia collegiate and Canadian passed between them.

Tracy looked at Benton's empty plate, then picked it up. "Could you put the leftovers in the fridge?"

Fraser lowered his napkin. "Yes, of course." He combined a few of the boxes' contents with the serving chopsticks before placing the full ones into the fridge and the detritus into the garbage. "Tracy." He realized that perhaps his actions at the station were not as comprehensive and comprehendible as he'd thought. Words failed him when they were most needed, when expectation and reality parted ways.

Tracy turned from the sink. "Would you take a seat on the couch?" Tracy smiled as Benton registered and accepted the request, before crossing to and stepping through the bedroom door.

Tracy returned after several minutes and sat on the couch beside Fraser, placing two objects on the steamer cum coffee table.

Fraser looked at the items. The larger he recognized as a compression bandage. He couldn't quite decide whether or not to look at Tracy. The smaller object he couldn't quite identify, and picked up in confusion. It was warm, and seemed to be a flannel covered, gel filled bladder.

Tracy chuckled. Laughed, red hair swaying with the hilarity.

Fraser turned his head, still fondling the strange object. He tried to decide what looked different about Tracy, other than his shirt being retucked in. He glanced back at the binder and then his chest. He looked at his handful.

"You may set my cock down." Tracy reached over and kissed Benton.

Fraser responded to the kiss, moving his arms around Tracy, pulling him close. The sillysea cucumber fell on the floor. Benton flexed his back against Tracy's arm. He moved one hand up Tracy's neck and into his red hair.

Tracy pulled back from the kiss, air exhausted, surprised to be kneeling over Benton. Legs giving out, Tracy sat on his knees, resting their foreheads together. "I don't know what's fast and slow anymore."

He tugged on Tracy's shirttails. It was too soon and well past time. He'd been skittish, not having had a male lover before, and Tracy's secret had lent a _patience_ uncharacteristic. Benton's thumbs traced the skin just above the waistband of Tracy's slacks.

"Take your tunic off." Tracy slipped back, off Benton's lap.

Fraser considered protesting, before his fingers started on his buckles and buttons. He stood, then draped the red serge over the back of Tracy's couch.

Tracy kissed him again, pulling Benton close.

More dangerous than the roof of a speeding train. He slid his hands into the small of Tracy's back, his thumbs on either side of the ridge of spine. He not exactly whimpered as the strong embrace loosened. The pull of his henley buttons being undone drew his attention to his own chest.

Tracy broke their kiss and looked at the red of the discovered union suit, fingering the silk. Tracy sat back further on the couch. "How are they?"

It took Fraser a moment to match his Christmas present with the question, still pondering Tracy's retreat. He sat, pinching his jodhpurs between thumb and index finger to adjust them. "They're warm." Perhaps a bit too much so, he'd put them on this morning as a spur, a reminder to square matters with Tracy.

"Good. Good." Tracy leaned back against the couch. "We need to talk."

Yes, Fraser acknowledged that they needed to do so. What he did instead was grasp Tracy's hand. Tracy met his eyes with violet ones and gripped back.

"I should have told you sooner."

"No." Fraser had considered the matter from every angle. "Given the circumstances, earlier would not have been a benefit. I am sorry that I took the news poorly." It had been a shock that after he'd reconfigured his self-concept to include being in love with a man that he discovered Tracy was not, discovered that Tracy was not male. He stroked two fingers down the front of Tracy's neck. Then he bent and picked up the small bladder from the floor and set it on the trunk. "I realized that I needed to know the truth before I could be told."

Tracy looked at him, perplexed.

Fraser looked at Tracy. "That you are a man and I'm in love with you."

Tracy pulled them together by their joined hands, unclasped his hand and wrapped an arm around Benton. "I missed you."

Fraser replied not in words, which often failed him, but in a kiss slow and searing. Action and its consequences were more dependable, gravity always caught him.

Tracy clung to Benton, anchoring them together. Perforce they'd moved slowly since the kiss in the elevator, partly to allow Benton to adjust and then because Tracy had dug in so deep with no good plan to explain gender and biology. Shirt tails pulled from jodhpurs was a start even though it just gave access to the silk long johns.

"I should go." Benton pulled back, his hands, then just his fingers still in contact. "I didn't mean to--"

His eyes were blown, just a thin blue thread of iris encircling each pupil, and his lips red from friction. Tracy grasped his wrists as he stopped making sense, as Benton's words registered. "Stay."

Fraser leaned into Tracy, inhaling deeply before turning his arms to gently escape Tracy's hold. He stepped back, reaching for his red tunic. "The Merry Publican tomorrow night?"

Tracy watched Benton right his uniform. "No Egrets." Benton' fingers froze, buttons forgotten. Tracy smiled, "It's a club, bigger dancefloor. Don't dress too warmly."

Fraser's fingers pushed the final buttons through their placket and cinched his Sam Browne before picking up his Stetson.

Tracy took the hat from his hands, set it upon his head and proceeded to plunder Benton's mouth. "I'll see you, 8 P.M.?" Tracy stepped away, hands releasing Benton's head, one hand trailing.

"Yes, well--" It was fortunate the jodhpurs were cut as they were, and the serge likewise. Leaving was difficult but right. He'd repeat that to himself until he returned to his apartment.

"Go on, while I'm charitable." Tracy was willing to make allowances. "Don't stand me up." Just not too many allowances.

Fraser managed to stiffen his spine more, though his thumb limned Tracy's mouth as they passed to the door. "Tomorrow."

"I love you. Remember that as you sleep."

* * *

No Egrets was populous and loud, the lighting low. He scanned the crowd then headed for Tracy. Fraser was still at some distance when Tracy turned and spotted him, grinning wide. He smiled in return and slid through the crowd faster, like an otter very much alive.

Tracy kept to his stool at the small, tall table, cupping one hand around Fraser's neck, rubbing the line between hair and skin. Tracy reeled Benton closer. "Sorry for not standing." Speaking directly into ears was the only way to avoid shouting and be understood. "Order if you want anything; we'll lose the table once we go onto the floor."

Fraser signaled one of the waitstaff, wanting a moment to read this establishment. Excess seemed to be the main unifier, too much sound, color, motion, but there was something more underpinning it; he smiled as he realized there was a distinct nineteenth century circus theme holding together all the lighting effects and mirrors, though the music was firmly modern.

Tracy leaned close. "That's a good look." A real smile shamed Benton's polite ones. The server appeared and took their order of ginger ale and lime, and another Black Brass. The club was too loud for sustained conversation, so they finished their drinks and headed onto the dance floor. Tracy took lead, though in a more freeform, less ballroom way, making full use of their previous experience. Benton quickly adjusted, mimicking movements easily, his upper body stiffness endearing.

Fraser leaned into Tracy during a slower block of songs, placing his right hand at the small of Tracy's back, taking the lead. He led them through strung together steps as the music switched counts. He supposed that increased familiarity with this music would reduce the amount of concentration needed. He never thought about when to lean while sledding, he just knew and did.

Tracy explored the liberties Benton would allow, while following his lead, pushing off the established limits from their prior dates. He was complicated, so much more than the fig leaf of a perfect Mountie, than expectations people reflected onto him. "Let me know you."

Fraser hugged Tracy closer, smelling his hair. He liked that; he'd learned early people made assumptions about him, and in fact he'd become skilled at shaping those judgments, just as the wind shaped the snow. He could hold people at just the right distance, where he was safe, where neither their disdain nor regard could hurt him. "I'd like that very much." He enjoyed time with Tracy. His conversation was both interesting and comfortable.

It became late, and as Consulate and college both required a certain amount of mental agility and physical endurance, they decided to retire for the night. "Come home with me?" Tracy requested.

Fraser sagged. It was time for him to get back to his place, Ray was picking up in the morning. He was surprised by a quick kiss.

"It's okay. School night and all." Tracy assuaged his disappointment by carding Benton's hair one handed. "I'll come by the station for lunch?"

Fraser missed the withdrawn fingers. "Ray's in court tomorrow. The Loomis matter. Did you want to fence sometime?"

"Between my office hours and the seminar would be fine." Tracy smiled back as Benton grinned. "Tomorrow, then."

"Yes." Benton wasn't quite satisfied and leaned in, kissing Tracy, drawing back slowly. They drifted outside, parting only when Tracy claimed a cab. Fraser walked home.

* * *

Tracy pushed Benton hard, channeling frustration into fencing. Their foils rang as they surged and ebbed along the _piste_. Fraser's 'rustiness' was quickly disappearing. His economy of motion, his speed and perception of opportunity had honed well.

He stopped suddenly, stepped and twisted; still Tracy touched with too much momentum even as he pulled the foil back. Tracy ripped off his mask, letting it bounce on the floor beside his weapon.

Fraser looked at Tracy. "You wanted time to shower."

Tracy did, and Benton's time sense-- "Don't do that!" Tracy gathered foil and mask, transferred them to one hand and tapped Fraser where a bruise must be blooming under the jacket before storming off. Wasting the sacrifice wouldn't improve anything, not even Tracy's mood. Tracy returned the foil to the work-study student and went into the locker room.

Tracy was nearly finished in the shower before-- "Fraser."

"Yes."

"Go take your own shower." He wasn't still there when Tracy pulled the curtain back, in shorts and undershirt, toweling his red-mane, just the sound of water running. Tracy went to finish dressing.

* * *

Fraser offered a concert, which Tracy accepted. A packed church had the advantage of them being pressed close together in the pew though the lights didn't go down. The music was excellent and the company better. Afterwards, in the Hall where a bake sale scored eager custom, they talked and ate.

"How's the bruise?"

"Healed." Slightly tender, but Fraser thought that could be discounted.

Tracy looked at him askance.

"Poultice."

If he pressed the point, Tracy was sure their definitions of 'healed' would differ. "You couldn't just tell me I'd be late? From now on, we're only fencing in open ended time blocks."

"Understood." He considered how to return the conversation to the music they'd heard. "Sorry."

"Accepted." Tracy thought, wondering what it would take for Benton to regard his well-being more highly. "Let's take a walk." They gathered their coats from the rack and headed out. The clouds made it a relatively warm evening. "Will you visit me in New York?" Summer might go quickly, but the fall semester would drag.

"I would like to." Fraser clasped Tracy's hand.

Tracy squeezed back and didn't let go. His time in Chicago was wrapping up, there hadn't been much reason to appear at the Precinct, as the exhibit was going to be packed up shortly for Montreal. "How's Elaine?"

Benton didn't respond to the unasked questions the otherwise non sequitur stood in for. "Well."

Tracy considered asking Benton back to his apartment, then decided against it. The night had been perfect, otherwise. As close as, anyway. "Merry Publican Thursday?"

"Yes."

* * *

Their date was cut short, by a Brinks truck hitting a school bus two blocks away, not that the accident was immediately apparent within the pub. One of the robbers ran past on the sidewalk and Benton harried after him, chasing him down. It was the hostage situation that developed afterwards that swallowed up their night.

The robbers had moved into the bus. Naturally Fraser offered to exchange himself for the injured kids. He ducked when the malfeasants fired on him. He then suggested he come to provide first aid. After the gang squabbled that was accepted, but the robbers were concerned that he might secretly be a cop and armed.

"You, Tarzan in the suit. Pat him down." Tracy looked at the other people that had been pinned down, mostly women. He was the best match for the oddly chosen moniker, so Tracy walked out of the sheltering doorwell and followed the instruction.

They told Benton to come forward and he picked up the medical supplies. "Red, you stay put. Got to double-check your work."

Fraser tensed and ignored his misgivings and walked to the broken bus. He judged that at least the 'welcoming' suspect was a prison guard based on his pat down technique. He flinched at the gun's retort.

"You can scram."

Fraser pushed his relief deep at the slap of shoe leather and looked at the children. Two he checked were dead already. He moved among them, quickly moving from the less injured to tend those more wounded.

On the street a green Riveria pulled up behind the police line. Swarming uniforms, abandoned cars and broken yellow bus resolved out of the night. "What the fuck!?"

"Hi, Ray. Don't act like you know me." Tracy's back was to the action.

Ray turned slightly in case the perps had binoculars and a lipreader. "He's on the bus." Of course Benny was on the bus. The address on the call had gotten Ray's attention, what were the chances? With Benny, improbably high. Sucked every time.

Tracy didn't even nod.

"Worse than that?" Of course it was worse than that. Ray had learned new levels of worse from Benny. Too much was happening for him to actually worry, so he just did his job, leaving Tracy to be treated like any other random bystander. Mostly.

The SWAT team ended the matter once they got into position, though not without Benton once more putting himself at risk, this time to bring out one of the criminals unharmed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Benny, the SWAT team is not happy." More quietly. "Half of them aren't even sane."

"I'd made a promise, Ray. He had no reason to believe me, but he did. I couldn't--" Ray threw up his hands and shook his head, not wanting to hear more. Fraser stopped his explanation and looked around the scene. "Where's Tracy?"

"Officer Huang was already pulling a double when this started, I had her take Tracy home." He doubted even Welsh would get to see all of the reports, what with the feds about to take over. No reason to rub Fraser and Tracy in his face. "I'm taking you home. The house, not your rat trap."

"Dief--"

"He's in the kitchen guarding Ma's pasta pot." That wolf pushed his luck every opportunity.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow.

Ray read Benny like a blotter. "It's March, why would you even have your window open, let alone have a window open in your neighborhood?"

* * *

"Constable?" Tracy looked Benton over in his brown uniform, unexpectedly on the sidewalk after class. It was a warm day with a clear blue sky.

"Would you have time for lunch?"

Tracy noticed the paper sack he held and smiled. "Yes, I would. There's a nice bench down this path."

Last night had been stupid chance. He'd realized that this morning, awakening at the Vecchios'. It had been no more his fault than the truck hitting the bus in the first place, the heist happening that night, taking that route. As long as one discounted that if he hadn't offered himself up no one would have needed to pat him down; that sort of reasoning was madness.

He shouldn't have let Ray cart him off, he should have at least called Tracy, seen if he'd needed anything. Fraser sat on the bench, set his hat aside and pulled out their lunch. He'd lived with too many regrets, each a weight he bore. It would be too easy to let their jobs get in the way, keep them apart. Last minute Consular business blew in with spring, as sure as ice breaking, with entirely too many parties.

Tracy caught Fraser's chin to inspect the shadowy bruises. There hadn't been so many after running down the fleeing robber. "What'd you use?" They'd drained well for overnight. Tracy turned to the food before forgetfulness of where they were could set in. Hands wrapped around a sandwich couldn't stray, chewing mouths couldn't seek.

"Did you sleep well?"

"You were walking." Ray hadn't tried making him leave before Benton came out from the bus. Sleep hadn't come easy, after seeing him walking out shielding a suspect from SWAT, until exhaustion swamped frustration. Last night _was_ Benton; bad guys did bad things and he got in the middle of it. "The kids?"

Fraser tipped his head. "Several died."

"How many are alive today?" Tracy didn't for a minute think the ones the paper listed as 'critical' would have made it to hospital without Benton's intervention.

"You handled yourself well." It wasn't what he wanted to say, true as it was. The moments between shot and soles slapping--- More quietly, "Would you accompany me to Shush tonight?"

Tracy was surprised by the suggestion. "Tomorrow? Departmental Service Organization meeting and grading got to me first." They hadn't gone there since Halloween.

Benton smiled. "Tomorrow then."

They shared a companionable lunch, enjoying the weather and the urban fauna.

* * *

Tracy pondered Benton's choice of the industrial club and whether he grasped how perfect and wrong his flannel shirt was. The last time they'd been here the plaid had been a great kilt, and they'd made a splash. Tracy pulled him away from the end of the queue and up to the top of the line, ignoring Benton's protestations. As expected they were waved in, confusing Benton. Tracy just grinned while they checked their jackets then latched onto Fraser as they crossed into the strobe-shot dark.

Benton cradled Tracy's head, burrowing into his mouth. The time between the gunshot, the bullet's impact and the blessed sound of fleeing shoes had been an eternity. Cheap intimidation tactics stung regardless. Tracy hugged him tight.

"Dance with me." Tracy pulled Benton onto the floor maintaining more contact than was strictly possible. Lunch, nice as it was, wasn't enough. Throwing Fraser against an alley wall as the EMTs flooded the school bus might have sufficed. Maybe.

Fraser realized the music was changing, the count obviously a waltz. Needing air he pulled away from Tracy's mouth. While classical music was the foundation of much of Western music it did seem unusual even at the increased tempo.

"Talk later, dance now." Tracy reclaimed Benton's mouth. If it wasn't the same dj as Halloween, their reputation had certainly proceeded them. Tracy took the music offered to its limits and was given more.

The music now for all its instrumentation was clear like tracks in the tundra and Fraser took the lead. The crowd had melted around them, and he'd found that they'd part if he chose a direction. He spun them, like they were on ice.

Tracy hung on, surrendered to the meshing of man and music, like the seamless alignment of surfer and wave.

Even a kite must fall. Tracy stepped into the lead, the mix now more pounding, though the sounds themselves were... Tracy laughed at the didgeridoo calling through the gnashing beat. Benton looked up confused and Tracy kissed him on the forehead. He wouldn't recall the broad Aussie pantomime, not that that had to be the reason for the DJ's choice. Tracy lapped at the sweat-dampened skin behind Benton's left ear. Followed jaw to neck, then ascended right.

This was why Benton had chosen this venue; there was more latitude here for them to be demonstrative. He dropped his hands to Tracy's waist and stepped sideways, pulling them closer.

Tracy arched between Benton's hands, hair falling back, neck exposed, still leading from hands clamped on his shoulders. Benton leaned and licked, riding Tracy's thigh. Sway and pivot connected them to the music.

Tracy surged and kissed Benton, hard. Tracy changed thighs, granting not quite as much pressure and pulled them tight chest to chest. It might be dark, but this wasn't the place despite Benton's seeming approval. Tracy did wonder about the dichotomy, of the way Benton slipped out of the university provided quarters and here courted public indecency. It'd been awhile since they'd been raided so one might think they were due, though interruption by armored truck robbery might constitute a substitution. "Hungry?" Tracy did have those gift coupons from Halloween.

Benton allowed himself to be led from the floor. He was puzzled by the waitstaff's, fawning? and he suspected he didn't disguise it well. He leaned back into Tracy once their order was taken and was surprised when it was brought to them so quickly.

Tracy considered how to get them back to his home away from home while switching between eating and nuzzling Benton.

Reason returned to Fraser, and he retreated from his very forward behavior. Stress was no excuse. Tracy clutched at him and he kissed back, sweet and lush.

 _Damn it all to hell._ Tracy strained to hold onto Benton's passion but it was banked out of reach, only the warmth remaining. Once they were done at the table Tracy pushed Benton back onto the floor and ignored the music, leading according to a completely different, gentler tune. The DJ didn't try to match their motion, but sought to build a soundscape it could fit into, like flowers growing through cracks in concrete.

* * *

"Would Ms Fraser like to go out next Saturday, do you think?" Tracy was at wit's end, unable to coax Benton past whatever kept him at a remove. The thought Benton was in love with being in love crossed Tracy's mind. As did the fact that the difference between flexible and gay would come to an inescapable test once they were nude. They'd never discussed Ms Fraser, who'd appeared at a faculty party by surprise, just that she'd been from a case. It seemed an unusual choice, though Benton did make a handsome woman.

"I think she might like that." Fraser smiled at Tracy then turned to welcome Ray back to their lunch.

Ray liked having lunch with Benny and Tracy, since it meant some time away from shop talk. He didn't want to take up their evenings, he knew the professor was off to Montreal in May, but Ray had gotten fond of his new friend. His Ma was right, Tracy and Benny were good together. Ray might be a bit confused, girls being boys, but it wasn't like he was being asked to jump out of windows. Benny had already done that years earlier.

* * *

"You're looking lovely tonight." Tracy clasped Ms Fraser's hand and then sat across from her. Benton had called so Ms Fraser and Tracy could make the arrangements. Meeting at the restaurant had been mutually decided as the best choice.

"Thank you." Ms Fraser extended her right hand across the table and it was joined by Tracy's. "You're handsome as always."

The waiter approached then, proffering the menus and mentioning the evening's especially fresh entrees before slipping away while they considered. They each reviewed their menus, setting them down as they decided. The waiter returned, and Tracy inclined his head towards Ms Fraser to cue the waiter to ask her first. He stated his own order afterwards.

Okay, this was odd. It wasn't as if Tracy had never dated a woman, but it was the first time doing so with any intent other than dissuade and redirect. _He's still Benton._ She. Tracy considered this confusion was but a taste of what Benton had gone through. Twice.

"Picasso's Chicago will be progressively more visible now. Not that it hasn't been visible, but between the daytime activity and my responsibilities, as well as the angle of the sun, it's a different experience in winter. "

Tracy considered carefully. "I did visit the Plaza. I was a little surprised, considering-- not that it's something that could just be carted off. Or the Miro. It was rather hard to look about without getting bumped into, with it being lunchtime." The small ensemble finished one song and started the lead in to another. "Might I have this dance?" Once on the floor, Tracy's left thumb closed over Ms Fraser's right hand. "How is it in the morning?" It should have been odd, if only because of the months they'd used their modified hand positions.

"I've seen it mostly in the evenings." Fraser closed his eyes, clearly holding in his mind the position of the buildings and the movement of the sun.

"I understand you worked on a case?" It wouldn't do for both of them to get lost.

Fraser accepted his cue. "Teacher at a girls' school."

Tracy pondered that. "What subject?"

"Art. It had the fewest class periods, and the regular teacher was happy for paid time to work on her own projects."

"The administration didn't have a problem with this?"

"Sister Anne was asking Ray a favor. Though I think hiring that youth as a handyman was ill-advised, however well-intended."

Tracy liked Ms Fraser. It had been a surprise when Benton, en frock, met Tracy on campus. Clothes didn't make a woman by themselves. They returned to their table as their meals came from the kitchen.

Dinner was excellent and the food good as well. A lot was said about a man by the kind of woman he made; Ms Fraser's conversational style was more forthright, genteel and firm, than the polite equivocation Benton often practiced. "Would you come back to my place?" Benton had been rather scrupulously avoiding doing that lately.

"I'd like that. Do you think we could have one more dance before we leave?"

Tracy obliged. Eyes closed, Tracy could pretend Ms Fraser was Benton. He smelled like well-stored linens. The dance floor only granted stolen moments though since Tracy was leading. She made a formable woman, handsome, which really did make sense as Benton was pretty as a man and excelled at any skill he put his mind to.

So they were in a taxi, then getting out of the cab, and Tracy was squiring Ms Fraser inside the building, then Tracy's apartment. "Tea?"

She nodded in assent and Tracy set to the ritual, filling the kettle, pulling down the cups, setting out the pot and filling the ball. He startled as Ms Fraser's fingers stroked his neck, then smiled and leaned into the touch, turned and kissed her perfectly stained lips.

The kettle whistled. Tracy chuckled and pulled away, warming the pot and dashing out the water before adding the ball and more water. "Sugar?"

Once their cups were fixed Ms Fraser picked them up and took them into the sitting area and Tracy smoothly put down coasters. Tracy sat and Ms Fraser settled beside him. They sipped, and Tracy set his cup down.

"B--" Ms Fraser pressed a finger against his lips. "Bea?" She smiled and Tracy couldn't help himself but grin, then lean over and kiss her.

Ms Fraser's hand covered Tracy's on her neck as she pressed forward into their kiss. "I enjoyed dinner." Her other hand rested on Tracy's leg.

Tracy partly unbuttoned his shirt before reaching out to Bea. They slid on the couch, rolling onto opposite hips trying to get closer. Tracy's hands moved down Bea as her fingers worked on his shirt placket.

The tuck was posing some discomfort, adding focus as Benton pulled Tracy's shirt tails out and found the sleeve buttons before taking his shirt off completely. She clasped her hands over Tracy's biceps then skinned off his t-shirt. Ms Fraser pulled them together, nuzzling the side of Tracy's neck and the top of his shoulder while she worked on the compression bandage.

It made a wump as it landed on the floor. Ms Fraser sucked on Tracy's exploring tongue, drawing the kiss out as her hands explored up his stomach, across ribs, the underside of Tracy's breasts. She looked down at them, each a good handful with a large pink aureole centered and pulled tight. Bea thumbed a nipple.

Tracy's hand shot up Ms Fraser's thigh under her skirt, only to be confronted with suspenders. Fumbling and afraid of laddering the stocking Tracy pulled back and palmed Bea's skirt-covered ass, fabric being fabric whether uniform trousers or not.

Bea licked the valley where Tracy's sternum ran between the mounds of breast, then up either side. She was wearing too many clothes but Tracy was too distracted to consider why or to take action to correct the situation. Bea spiraled her thumb over the other puckering aureole while she kissed the first breast.

Tracy gasped as Benton took the nipple into his mouth. The dress was more difficult to navigate than the RCMP uniform, it not nearly so sturdy and less familiar and Tracy desperately wanted to clutch Benton's hair, his real pelt-like hair. Tracy made the mistake of opening his eyes.

"Tracy?" Ms Fraser looked up, wondering why Tracy had gone rigid.

Tracy sat up, missing Benton's heat as he shifted back. "I can't do it this way." Tracy grasped one of Benton's hands and kissed his painted mouth firmly. "Maybe..." Tracy thought it might not be so odd making love to Ms Fraser once he'd had Benton, but holding that out wasn't fair to any of them.

"This way?"

Tracy shrugged back into his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, then slid closer to Benton. "You're wearing a dress, very well I must say, but it's messing with my head." Tracy looked at Benton, who was less self-conscious in a dress than Tracy had ever felt.

"I fear I don't understand." She darted her eyes across Tracy's chest, embarrassed now outside the heat of the moment. Her hands itched remembering their weight, how they filled palms and fingers. The nipples were good to lick. She looked down the taut stomach, eyes flicking between belly button and trouser button. Bea sought a more comfortable seat, but there was none to be found with blood pooling hot between tense thighs.

Tracy looked at him, at Ms Fraser's face, considering that. "You really don't understand?" He tried not to lead. "You dressed up as a woman, just a metaphorical window to jump out of, because of the case?"

"I suppose you could see it that way. Though it's the landing that takes most of the skill."

Tracy smiled and rubbed Benton's left eyebrow, careful not to smudge Ms Fraser's makeup. "And after the case you held onto things in case the need came up again?"

"It was only prudent, as the shopping had been the hardest part." Ladies' clothing really could do with standardized sizes. The ability to accurately judge complex volumes was not common. It was unconscionable the way the industry wasted women's time, without even addressing the insecurity the meaningless numbers might instill.

"That I can believe." Tracy thought. "But the faculty party wasn't a case."

"I really wanted to see you and you were concerned they'd recognize me."

Tracy kissed him. It had been an enjoyable evening. Both evenings. If he could just get Benton out of Ms Fraser's dress and into bed, this night would surpass enjoyable.

He kissed back, unaware and uncaring of why Tracy had changed his mind. Benton pulled them together by Tracy's shoulders, then slid his hands up Tracy's neck, dug his fingers into the red hair, the pads rubbing Tracy's scalp.

Tracy's hands moved over Benton, finding where the layers were fewest, favoring them thereafter. The scarf had to go and it was short work unlike the stockings; Tracy lapped at his sweat dampened neck ignoring the taste of foundation, mouthing Benton's Adam's Apple. Tracy reached up to clasp the backs of Benton's hands, hands that were wanted, needed, lower than the back of Tracy's head.

Benton allowed his hands to be guided down, sliding them to the tails of Tracy's shirt and up again under the fabric, while his mouth plotted a course of ear, neck and bared shoulder. Benton moved his hands to Tracy's sides, stroking between the swell of his bosom and the top of his belt, the musculature in strangely strong relief.

Tracy sucked on Benton's tongue, burning from his fingers tracing patterns. Tracy stroked down the dress's zipper, taking the talon on the journey. Benton somehow sat back, rezipped and found his purse, 60 to zero, three seconds flat. Tracy watched him straighten his clothes and hair and then step out the door.

* * *

"Excuse me, ma'am, I don't mean to intrude." Robert doffed his Stetson to the handsome woman, wondering if he'd made a wrong turn somewhere, then blinked when her exasperation was a spitting image of his son. "Oh, for the love--" He broke off, not willing to invoke his mother's wrath; she didn't need to see this. Somehow she'd blame him, of that he was sure. "Son, would you care to explain yourself?" Robert waited for an answer.

His ardor was thoroughly doused by his father's manifestation. _Guess there is a first time for his appearance to be useful._ Fraser had taken a cab back home, walking being contraindicated in his prior state, now conveniently deflated. However, that didn't make him any closer to having an answer for his father's shade. _Or himself._ More importantly, he had no answer for Tracy, who was the aggrieved party, he was sure. He pulled out hairpins and carefully removed the wig, setting it onto its block.

Robert coughed and was, perhaps 'rewarded' was too strong, but his son at least looked at him. He supposed... Well, it wasn't a trashy dress at least. "It looks good on you?"

Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you here?"

"Unfinished business, guilt, boredom--" He smiled as Benton glared at him. "Isn't that rather a lot of makeup?" Caroline had never worn much, a little rouge-colored fat against the wind.

"It is evening, it is Chicago and I am a man. While my beard does not come in quickly, it comes in very dark, and the contrast with my skin tone is very noticeable." He closed his eyes as he unscrewed the cap from the jar of cold cream. He didn't understand why he was here arguing with his father, his deceased father, when he could have been with Tracy. He applied the cream to his makeup. "You don't approve." He started wiping his face clean.

"It doesn't really matter if I do or not. I'm dead. You, on the other hand, are alive, and it's well past time you act on that fact. Why are you wearing a dress?"

Benton smiled and turned towards his father. Who wasn't there. "It's a good question."

* * *

"Why'd you shoot him?"

Ray just averted scratching the ball and turned, standing to regard Tracy. He, **_she_** , was wearing a sweater that might be related to one of Benny's, in the way he was related to Sophia Loren. Other way around. "Not cold enough for you?"

"The weather and the calendar match." Chicago spring, on good days, was interchangeable with fall.

Ray nodded at a booth and then at the bartender. He slipped in across from Tracy. "He stepped in between me and Victoria." Benny had claimed he was going with her, as he lay bleeding out. Benny had to have seen the gun, had to know she would have killed him. Only luck had kept Ray's bullet from doing the job for her.

"Victoria."

"Yeah, Victoria." Ray peeled off some bills as the two beers appeared on the table.

"Did he know you were going to shoot her?"

Ray thought a moment. "He saw me." He didn't know what Benny had seen. How could he not have seen the gun, Victoria's gun, she was holding out her hand, aiming straight for Benny as he kept running after that train. By that time, there was enough reasonable doubt that the bail bond probably would have been canceled; not every judge he had photos on was dead. He'd made sure he was up to date after the situation with Diefenbaker and the dirty Animal Control officer. They could have said Fraser was pursuing a fugitive. Everyone in Chicago knew, official motto notwithstanding, that a Mountie always got their man. Woman. His knuckles itched. "He's not mentioned Victoria." _Shit._ At least he hadn't given away her last name.

"He thought he loved her." Tracy sipped at the beer in its heavy goblet.

"She was a vindictive bitch." Ten years of prison could do that, he supposed. He hadn't questioned too much, Benny hadn't been in any shape, he hadn't been in any shape, he'd taken a bullet right in the hospital while Benny was recovering, then there was the vacation fiasco--

"They had a history." If only this beer had a past longer than its delivery time from its brewery.

Ray snorted.

"They each thought they had a history." Tracy watched Ray carefully.

She was fishing. Ray considered for a moment. Tracy was good for Benny, and Ray was the one that'd put his foot in it, telling tales out of turn. "She tried to escape into a raging blizzard. Her boyfriend had capped a bank guard, she drove the getaway car."

"How green was Benton?"

"Not as jaded as she expected." Ray didn't know who she was when she'd gone to prison. Chuckles shouldn't have known her, and Benny shouldn't have gone after her in a storm. He'd been her only chance to live and she'd thought to go free, too?

"He saved her life, gave her hope, and then dashed it." Tracy chuckled without humor.

"Care to share the joke?"

"I can think of no fewer than three songs he should know that deal with this very situation." Tracy finished the nearly tasteless beer. "She came after him, she had a plan, they hadn't found the money."

Ray shook his head. He didn't need to say anything. Tracy wasn't guessing, Victoria was just that predicable. Ray hadn't seen it coming. "She hid part of it at his father's cabin before she set the place ablaze. Foisted bills on Benny, tried to frame me with a suitcase stowed at the train station."

"Tried?"

Ray had torn up the letter Benny had left on Dief's cage. Benny had found the key for the locker at the train station, ripped the house apart to do it, but slipped it back onto Victoria. Money scattered in the station without payoff, no getting this cop, the diamonds scattered on the platform, she'd lost everything to revenge, everything but Benny's misplaced-- Guilt? "Tried to use both ends of the stick, underestimated Fraser."

"He double crossed her double cross." Victoria hadn't learned how protective Benton was. She'd never known one thing about him.

Ray smiled, then laughed. He hoped it stuck in Victoria's craw. To think he'd been happy when he'd learned Benny had a real woman in his apartment. He hoped she thought about throwing **that** away, about losing Benny. He supposed it was a good thing she was a vindictive bitch; she'd twisted too far and her schemes unraveled leaving her with nothing, no fortune, no souvenir Mountie. "Want to shoot a few balls?"

Tracy got up and headed to the cue rack.

* * *

_They needed to talk._ Tracy had rightly figured that Ray shooting Benton was momentous. This however-- knowing about Victoria didn't solve anything. Oh, some might wonder that she'd never come up, but really, why would Fraser mention her? He'd seen, belatedly, the set up. If Victoria hadn't overreached-- but she didn't know when to stop, and Benton had seen the double cross coming and burnt her with her own candle.

 _No, didn't solve a damn thing._ Of course, it did raise the question of why he'd rushed after her, when he had to know she wanted him dead, when he had little chance of bringing her in. Communicating with the train would have been sensible, instead of throwing his body into harm's way. A body Tracy increasingly despaired of ever seeing in the all together.

 _They would have words._ Tracy loved him and this stand off wouldn't hold. It was all a question of landing, now.

* * *

Tracy knew this was cowardly, but then love was even less fair than war. Tracy headed for Benton's post and stood beside him, out of his direct view. "I'll take it as given you had reasons for leaving the other night. We need to explore those reasons, lunch tomorrow, my office." Tracy smiled as the tourist framed her picture. The flash went off twice. "I do wonder what your count must be. Though it's hardly fair, since you are posted out here frequently." Tracy stilled for a moment. "I've mentioned the pastime? If not, bring it up but not tomorrow. And I'll have a clock right there so no need to take any arguments hard to the chest. Two pm." Everything said said, Tracy walked away.

* * *

Fraser stepped into the Anthropology departmental office, Stetson against his brown uniform jacket and the secretary gestured towards the back while continuing to listen to the phone and take notes. He wondered if he had understood correctly until he recognized the long billed flightless bird on the ajar door. A kiwi. He knocked on the jam.

"Come in." Tracy was on the phone and spoke into the receiver. "My two o'clock is here. Send me an e-mail and I'll look it over." Tracy hung up after the briefest pleasantries. "So."

The office wasn't so large as he could swing an otter, frozen or otherwise. He started to chuckle, guffaw actually. Tracy regarded him with concern and Fraser struggled for control. "I, I think this is smaller than my office, and I'd been assured that wasn't possible."

"Ray has a limited imagination." Tracy smiled, and reached around to close the door. "Have a seat."

Benton looked at the chair covered with books and papers then back to his hand clutching the deli bag.

Tracy sat on the desk squeezed into the alcove and under a duct. "Take my chair."

He started to demur then dropped into the chair, setting the bag on the desktop and his hat on the book stacked chair. "As you mentioned, I did have reasons for leaving rather precipitously, though on hindsight they don't hold up to consideration." He regarded Tracy's arched eyebrow. "I was concerned as to the impression I might make, should I redress somewhat, rumpled. Not that it's anyone's business," He cut himself off, realizing that he was digressing. "It's rather a poor excuse, and I expect I even knew that and that's why I said nothing."

"It wasn't the first time." They were both aware that it was rather more inconvenient timing, and there was no need to mention that fact. Tracy started unpacking the bag for distraction. "I might almost take it personally." There had been a risk to dating a man willing to date a man.

Benton reached out for Tracy's hand, clutching it firmly, rubbing his thumb along the bones. "It's me. I don't know why." He considered for a moment, rubbed his eyebrow with his left thumb. "It's not as if I'm a virgin."

Tracy's hand twisted and pressed palm to Benton's palm. It was an odd admission. Maybe not; he was many things but none of them stupid, nor as naive as people thought, in spite of the way he misdirected them to so think.

"I do want you." He closed his eyes. He thought of Tracy as the gentleman captain, a very fetching holiday costume. "You've been very patient." He knew he was difficult. He didn't know why, when he didn't want to be, when he knew he didn't need to be. When he needed to not be difficult. He turned his hand to thread his fingers through Tracy's.

"We should eat." Tracy didn't release Benton's hand but rather gripped it firmly. "It's not patience, though. Self-interest, perhaps. If you would, get the bag out of the bottom drawer of the file cabinet."

Fraser looked at his still captured hand, then pushed his chair left. He noticed that the files were sparse in that drawer, as if they awaited a run on U-Z. Fraser retrieved the bag and shut the drawer with his foot. "Self-interest?"

"I'm in love with you. It's not patience, because it's not selfless sacrifice. Tactics." Tracy stared at the tie that'd make a good handle once Benton was cooperative. Tracy lifted one foot onto the arm of Benton's chair. "So, back to just dates."

Just--

"I found some poorly notated ethnology recordings. Maybe you could listen to them before I leave for Montreal?"

"Um."

"Flannel. It's not been dusted in ages."

Finally he got it and he looked up, lips flirting with a smile. Then it had been artifacts to identify, and an under repair elevator. They split the lunches between them.

* * *

"Oh, no, I'm not playing shinty in spring with you! Do you have any idea what the park is like right now, a dogs' bathroom is like what. A soggy doggie doodoo pile. Not to mention, you're both clumsy." Fraser wasn't light landing on him and Tracy wasn't much better.

"Basketball?" Tracy expected Ray knew the local field conditions, and didn't want to subject spikes to sodden pure.

Ray smiled. He wasn't quite sure what this was about, but it felt good, convivial. "That, yeah, I can do that. Know just the place. When?"

"Tonight?" After grading midterms, Tracy would need to blow off some steam.

"Okay. Court shoes everybody. 7:30, 8 P.M., have to swing through West Racine."

"I have a pair at the station."

Ray looked at Benny.

"Elaine got me a locker. Lt. Welsh insisted."

Ray chuckled at that. Occasionally even Benny's Teflon coating failed, and considering how often he ended up in dumpsters or the Lake, when it failed it Failed. Nobody liked a squelchy Mountie. He looked at Tracy. "We'll pick you up. I'll call, in case something comes up."

It didn't. They played rotating two versus one, except that Ray insisted he not be one. Probably wasn't gallant, but Tracy hadn't taken the wear and tear Ray had. And neither of them had normal moves. Wasn't worth risking them zigging when he thought they'd zag.

"Full-court?" Tracy was warmed up. Turned out Benton had sweats at the station as well. They couldn't play to exhaustion if he was just stripped down to shirtsleeves in his uniform. Poor tactics though, it'd be sure to be distracting.

"I'm game. Ray?"

"You're trying to kill me. Sure, sure." They had a doctor, not the right sort, in the house. Ray wasn't looking forward to Tracy leaving. Benny would likely overachieve in his sartorial destruction just to make up his quota. It hadn't gone unnoticed that a dating Benny didn't drag Ray's suits through as many weird cases and places.

* * *

"I thought--" He shut up. He did want to make love to Tracy. Desperately, though knowing that he wouldn't had made their dates less stressful.

"To talk." They'd gone back to how it'd been before the disclosure of the difference between man and male. Not exactly, as Tracy had learned a few things from the date with Ms Fraser, and led a bit more often, paid a bit more court. It was now nearly May, term end right around the corner.

Benton nodded. Once they were inside Tracy's apartment he gripped her hand, knowing that he'd missed his chance. Like always.

Tracy leaned forward, forehead against his forehead. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. "Whatever am I going to do about you?" Tracy kissed him, slow and shallow. Still clutching his hand in one, Tracy stroked the other over his cheek, them pulled back to look at Benton.

He looked up, confused.

"I'm leaving, doesn't mean I'll stop loving you." Tracy looked at Benton carefully. "Benton." Tracy considered what bits and pieces of his past had been revealed over the year. Tracy grabbed his head in both hands. Tracy kissed his eyebrows, trailed down his face and kissed up Benton's chin to his lips. Excavated, plundered, tilled. Tracy kept carding his hair even while the need for breath parted their mouths.

"I--" It didn't make sense. He'd run after Victoria, knowing that she was a killer, a vindictive gamesplayer, risked Ray's home with the bail on his head, very nearly throwing away everything he was. He expected that might have slaked Victoria's need for revenge. Tracy was asking nothing of the sort but he just couldn't make love and then let go.

"Couch." Tracy held on, shifting grips, pulling Benton back to chest and wrapping one arm across. It had been a strange year. Tracy rubbed index and its partner over the barber's line across Benton's nape. "New York's not so far from Chicago."

Benton took a moment to process the words, more involved in the feel of Tracy's cheek rubbing against his hair.

"Neither is Washington, D.C." Tracy traced a fingertip up around the back of Benton's ear and down the shell. "The tail end of the tour, however, is going to take me very far from you."

 _And then New Zealand._ Benton hadn't considered that when this had started, caught up as he was in the realization he could be attracted to another man. Dating Tracy had been so far outside of his experience, had proven so enjoyable he'd ignored that they were each far from home, but unlike himself Tracy was going home. Being held wasn't everything, but it was more than he could expect.

* * *

"I've got a lot of prep work to do. How about you come over instead? Bring a book." Tracy watched Benton consider the proposal. "An Indian restaurant opened nearby, they're good, we could get takeout."

Benton smiled, an evening with Tracy was better than one without. "What time?"

It took some time for them to work out the logistics of reading while overlapping personal space, but achieved it was both intimate and comfortable. Because it didn't pose the same distraction from duty for Tracy as their typical dates, they could see each other more frequently.

* * *

"Benny, sorry about this." The suspect for an arms running ring had a penchant for conducting business in a wilderness refuge. Exactly the place his lawyers couldn't argue a Mountie with a penchant for nature needed a warrant to use binoculars. Ray handed him the binoculars.

"It's perfectly all right, I know lip-reading isn't a common skill." He was disappointed missing his evening with Tracy and had gotten to a very interesting section in his book besides. Which wasn't to say he begrudged time with Ray. Quite the contrary, he did like stakeouts. They were much better than hiding in a caribou carcass. Fraser developed a pattern of keeping an eye on the subject and investigating the nature preserve from their vantage point.

"So, how's Tracy?" Ray had stayed quiet for a good while, had taken the binoculars a few times, saw the muskrat, the three kinds of birds, all interesting of themselves, and good cover should there be any questions. Not that there would be, everyone knew Benny and nature were like peanut butter and jelly.

"Tracy's fine." He was aware this conversation, for surely this would become a conversation, could become awkward, Ray simply had very different notions of propriety Perhaps, given the nature of their surveillance, the conversation would be interrupted and they'd be provided with a warehouse to swoop down upon before he hit a place too uncomfortable.

"Things pretty serious between you."

No, Ray was skilled at finding his point. "Yes."

Ray smiled. He didn't press. He knew he could get more out of Benny by sweating him out with his own trepidation. Which was why Benny was only any good undercover in mental wards and lockup. It was fortunate no one considered that fact too hard; it really exposed how Benny dealt with people.

Okay, so Fraser was pretty stubborn. Ray didn't want to ever see another chipmunk. "I suppose Mounties know about long distance relationships."

"Yes." He really couldn't recall if his dad had always patrolled so long each winter, or if that was only after his mother died. After he'd grown up, he'd wondered if his father hadn't perhaps become a Mountie as a way to get away from his mother, Benton's grandmother. It wasn't charitable, but after time at Depot he was able to consider just how forceful she was. He recalled very little of his dad before, natural enough considering his age.

Ray couldn't bluster his way through this one. One, that didn't really work with Benny, he was much too chivalrous to allow normal guy stuff comments, and even if he wasn't, which he was, you didn't talk that way about a best girl. Allowing for the whole gay romance Shakespearean comedy, they'd still been dating long enough that if they were anyone else, they'd be getting married. Engaged at least. So, Tracy, best girl, man, whatever, even before taking the Mountie stuff into the equation. "You going to be okay, Benny?"

"Where's a miniature golf course with a shark?"

Ray called Welsh.

* * *

"Would you marry me knowing it might be years before we could live together?"

Benton lost his page but managed to not drop the book. Tracy was leaning against him, reading term papers.

Tracy turned and looked at him. "Marriage _would_ be enough?" Tracy looked down Benton and then back up at his face. Hot as Benton made Duty, verbally yoking sex and duty was not happening, the drought no joking matter.

He managed not to bolt from the couch, and in fact eased Tracy upright without shuffling the grading.

Tracy set the stack on the trunk and turned towards Benton.

"Why?" Before Tracy could misinterpret him, a torrent of words streamed from him. "I'm an exiled law officer, posted so far out of my jurisdiction that I am infrequently in my own country, discounting the nicety of Consulates and Sovereign soil. I've adapted to Chicago but imperfectly, serving mostly to further infuriate the RCMP." He smiled, a thin, pleased smile. "I expect they thought it'd be like Moose Jaw." They'd expected, given a choice, he'd choose the North over being a Mountie.

"I'm in love with you." Tracy gave him a moment to consider that. "I want to make love with you. There are strings to this offer, conjugal ones."

Fraser couldn't answer. He wanted Tracy so much. "Why would you marry me?"

"Because I want you. I'll still have to finish the tour, and we'd have to figure out a way to be on the same continent, but that shouldn't be insurmountable."

Fraser looked at Tracy with perplexity.

"I have to find a school that will hire me, and preferably hire me tenure-track. I concede on that point I lose too much appeal. I'm not sure how desirable I am as an international hire as is, but any perceived devaluation--"

He was being unreasonable. Tracy's arms wrapped around him tightly. He wasn't worth this. It was extortion on his part, just as Victoria was unsatisfied with anything less than breaking him, he couldn't settle for anything less than a full commitment. At the time, he'd thought Victoria's price was fair. At the time he wasn't considering Ray or his family.

"You don't have to, you don't have to marry me."

"I know I don't have to. I want to."

Fraser opened his eyes, then blinked. Tracy was smiling, this quirky complicated smile, that he wanted to understand.

"Saying that is what you're waiting for, and that having saved it up, marriage will free your physical love."

He dropped his eyes. He can't bear to say it again, he knew Tracy heard him, he remembered saying it in the tiny office. Stating he wasn't a virgin was real.

"Circumstances change, that doesn't mean you stop getting to choose. I only want you freely given." Tracy's smile became more wry. "Of course, I'm going question your motives if you suddenly offer yourself, because the only circumstance I see changed is your notions of sacrifice." Tracy stole a kiss. "I don't martyr men in my bed." Tracy rubbed against his hair. "Which is too bad, the painting would be beautiful. However, I'm going to insist you stay the night, where I know you're safe. I'll let you have the couch if you promise not to escape."

"And if I don't?"

"I sleep on the couch."

The thought of sleeping in Tracy's bed, even alone, pulsed in his groin. "Very well, I promise I will stay the night." The couch would be the lesser sweet torture.

"I'll get you sheets."

* * *

He knew the block of wood when he found it, surprising himself how easy the decision was, not having agonized over it, but made it just now going through the scrap wood bin. He'd marry Tracy. The rest they'd decide together, but first he had a token to carve and a proposal to tender.

\--Beginnings


End file.
